Chapter Text
“This is, without a doubt, your fault,” Michael sniffs unhappily.
“Funny, because if I were you, I would blame—in order—first Calum and then myself, for the mess you’re in.”
“Funny, because if you were me, you’d actually have cool hair but a terrible boyfriend.”
“I know you’re sick, but that’s mean, Michael.”
Luke and Michael are cuddled up together on the latter's couch, which isn’t too out of the ordinary. What is different is their regalia.
With their season well over and the World Series just starting, they’ve curled up to watch it, to root for the Cubs as they continue their quest for their first World Series trophy in well over a hundred years. They’d come so close in the past few seasons, and yes, the Cubs did knock them out of the postseason race, but they’re rooting for the Chicago team anyway.
They’re decked in red, white, and blue—Michael didn’t even know he owned enough of those colors to outfit both he and Luke, but after arriving with a ginger tea for his sick boyfriend, Luke had dug through Michael’s dresser and closet to find clothes for both of them to watch the Series in.
Courtesy of Ashton, Luke is wearing a surgical mask. Michael is wrapped in three blankets and three beanies, one on his head and one over each hand, because neither he nor Luke seem to own a pair of gloves or mittens. He’s clammy and cold, nose plugged up and lips chapped, but it’s nice that Luke is here with him. Impulsively, he leans out of his blanket cave and across the couch to kiss Luke on the paper over his mouth.
“You’re weird when you’re sick, Mikey,” and despite the mask, Michael sees the corner of Luke’s eyes crinkle as he turns back to watch the game.
“Show you how weird I can be if you take that stupid mask off…s’not like you have to pitch anytime soon.”
“True, but the point is that I have full use of my respiratory system despite the fact that you’re the one that dumped water all over me in the middle of the rainiest day of the year.”
“It was out of love!” Michael breaks to cough before continuing, “And anyway, you look so cute all bedraggled, I was just acting on my hormones.”
“You’re too old to be driven by hormones, Michael,” Luke says as he gingerly moves Michael’s slippered feet from his lap and gets up from the couch, “Do you want another ginger, or lemon, or mint?”
“Mint, please.”
“’K.”
Michael has another coughing bout while Luke is in the kitchen, and privately is glad Luke is keeping the mask on. As much of a bother he knows he is when sick, he has no doubt that Luke is infinitely worse, whinier. It’s just intuition telling him so, but he smiles to himself imagining his boyfriend as wrapped up as he is now, making Michael wait on him hand and foot.
With the tea in one hand—Michael wonders if Luke brought extra mugs with him, because there are at least seven on his coffee table—Luke sets down another box of tissues next to Michael and hands him hand sanitizer, “You’re supposed to cough into your inner elbow, Mikey, you know that. Quit being icky.”
Michael quirks up again, though he gladly uses the sanitizer. He almost drops this mug, as he did the last one, but hangs onto it and happily plonks his feet back onto Luke after he sits back down on the other end of the sofa. Luke takes off Michael’s slippers and gently rubs his feet over the stripey and fuzzy socks he’s got on, courtesy of a rightfully apologetic Calum. Michael sighs contentedly, and though it tickles a bit, he’s more than happy enjoy the foot massage, slouch further into his blankets, and tune back into the game.
It’s the first game, the Cubbies and Blue Jays are playing up in Toronto, and the Cubs have scored three times in the fourth. The last run comes on a mistake by the Jays’s third baseman, and Luke quietly murmurs, “You could’ve turned that play, Mikey.”
Michael stares intently at the screen, though he can feel Luke’s eyes slide over to him, and snags a few tissues to wipe at his dripping nose; he dabs at his eyes as well, knowing Luke won’t say anything about it, thankful for that.
He’s a lot more comfortable expressing his feelings these days, whether it’s nerves or love, and though at this moment it’s a mixture of those two, his illness has things bubbling a lot closer to the surface. It’s not too difficult to ask the question he’s been thinking of asking for the past month or so: “Do you want to move in with me, maybe?”
It’s not that cliché; Luke answers instantly.
“Of course!! You’re not kidding? It’s not the cough syrup?”
Michael looks at Luke for a long moment, frowning, “Can you take off the mask now, please?”
Luke struggles a bit with the ties before just yanking it over his ears, and scoots over onto Michael’s side of the couch, pushing Michael’s legs back up against his chest before he takes the mug from Michael and replaces it with his hands.
“Luke, please move in with me. I want you to, and not because I’m sick and not because I want you to wait on me, not even because it means we beat Calum and Ashton for cutest couple on the team. Maybe that’s a little bit of my motivation, but mostly it’s just you, I want you around always.”
To his credit, Luke doesn’t need to take the tissue box from Michael, but he does lean in and kiss the tip of Michael’s red and raw nose, over to his flushed cheeks, and down to his dry lips. “I’d love nothing more than to wake up to your face in the mornings, snotty or not.”
Michael kind of hates them in that moment, because it’s too perfect, but the crack of a bat rattles into their quiet space. Luke’s still pressing gentle kisses to his lips, while Michael sniffs enthusiastically and tries to postpone the inevitable drippage, when the Blue Jays get a grand slam, putting them a run ahead of the Cubs. Luke pulls away, and they both turn back to the TV, unable to resist the spectacles of their decidedly dramatic sport, but their closeness has changed.
Mike is still sick and sniffling, wrapped in maybe one too many blankets. But he and Luke are holding hands, Luke’s head is resting on Michael’s shoulder, and while he can’t speak for Luke, getting a cold for his dumb prank on Luke yesterday is more than worth it.